●— Are you okay? —
— Durman — Tsk… this thing is broken. It's absorbed too much goal mana and I'm feeling dizzy. Plus, I can't read it. I'll tell Dalia to fix it. —
His tone sounded normal, but there was something in his expression that didn't quite fit. Durman looked at me differently, as if trying to gauge something he didn't understand. Then, with a brusque gesture, he stood up and straightened.
— Durman — Anyway, stop asking questions and clean up, kid! — He threw a rag at me without warning.
— Durman — I'm going to... uh... the bathroom. I didn't expect a reply. He just left in a hurry.
I stood in the workshop, watching him disappear through the door.
(Okay. Where did it start?)
==+-+-+-+==
Durman entered the kitchen, frowning and breathing heavily. Astrid was organizing the dishes for dinner with the maids when her husband gently took her arm.
— Durman — Come with me. —
Astrid glanced at him. It wasn't a request, it was an order.
— Astrid — Don't you see I'm busy? —
—Sleep—Now. —His tone was tense, almost trembling.
Astrid narrowed her eyes. It wasn't easy seeing Durman like that. Without saying anything, she put down her dishes and followed him. They went upstairs and entered their master bedroom. Durman closed the door firmly and leaned against it, as if afraid someone might hear them.
—Durman—…Astrid. We have a problem. —
She crossed her arms and watched him silently, waiting for him to continue. Durman removed his analysis glasses and held them in his hand. The lenses were cracked, the etched runes had lost their shine, and traces of mana residue were still visible.
— Durman — They broke when I looked at Neo. —
— Astrid — And what did you see? — She said, remaining calm.
Durman swallowed.
— Durman — Level 100. 690 hit points. 500 mana. Job: Tolmas Envoy. —
The silence became unbearable. Astrid, without changing her expression, sat on the edge of the bed and rested an elbow on her knee, her hand on her chin, her gaze on the floor.
— Astrid — That's impossible. —
— Durman — I know. —
— Astrid — There were only seven Envoys of Tolmas. And that was over 750 years ago. —
— Durman — The glasses couldn't analyze it any further. They only showed errors and then exploded. —
— Astrid — …Then we don't know what else he can do. —
Durman moved forward slowly. Silence fell again in the room. Astrid closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her gaze was as sharp as a newly forged sword.
— Astrid — We won't say anything. —
Durman looked at her in surprise.
— Durman — What? —
— Astrid — If an Envoy from Tolmas has come to our house, it is for a reason. —
— Durman — But, Astrid! I called him a lad! —
Durman clutched his head in both hands, pacing in circles around the room.
—Durman—Zagal, Astrid. I, a simple blacksmith, looking down on an Envoy of Tolmas. —
Astrid looked at him sternly, placing her right hand on his face to reassure him.
— Astrid — And he will continue to be a lad, as long as he doesn't say otherwise. —
Durman felt a chill run down his spine. Astrid wasn't scared. She wasn't in shock. She was accepting the situation with the same firmness with which she handled everything in her life.
— Astrid — He didn't come as a messenger. He didn't bring judgment or warnings. He's just a talented young blacksmith. Until he says otherwise, we'll treat him the same as before. —
Durman took a deep breath, but Astrid wasn't finished yet.
— Astrid — The spare glasses? —
Durman blinked several times in surprise.
— Durman — What glasses? —
— Astrid — The ones in your office, at the blacksmiths' guild. The authentic ones, remember this one is an imitation Dalia made.
— Astrid — I'll go check it out myself tomorrow. If that boy is really what he says, I'll see for myself. —
Durman gritted his teeth. The idea of Astrid wanting to check Neo's stats for herself didn't appeal to him, but he couldn't refuse.
— Durman — …Okay. —
Astrid looked him straight in the eyes.
— Astrid — If you fear what he might become, then guide him. Make him your disciple before someone with evil intentions manipulates him and turns him into a threat to humanity. —
Durman frowned, but had no way to refute it.
— Astrid — You've taken dozens of kids off the streets by teaching them your trade. You can do the same with this boy. —
Durman looked down. The idea of training Neo had already crossed his mind, but now, hearing it from Astrid made it inevitable. With a gentle gesture, Astrid smoothed his wrinkled shirt. Then, without another word, she gave him a brief but firm kiss.
— Astrid — Let's go, dinner is waiting for us. —
Durman let out a long sigh and followed her silently, burdened by a secret he couldn't share with anyone else.
==+-+-+-+==
Durman arrived at the workshop, and I found myself sitting at the workbench, reviewing some sword plans I'd found among the papers. The man stood in the doorway, looking around with a frown.
—Durman—…Zagal.
His voice had a strange tone, as if he was trying to sound normal, but he was laced with a nervousness he hadn't shown before.
— Durman — Come, dinner is ready! —
I turned to him. I didn't miss the way he looked around the workshop, scanning every corner with a mixture of disbelief and surprise. As we walked through the halls, Durman clicked his tongue and crossed his arms.
— Durman — You did a good job cleaning. —
●— I like to keep my workspace tidy. —I smiled slightly.
Durman just snorted, not responding. When I reached the dining room, I saw that only Astrid and Dalia were at the table, sitting quietly. I paused for a second before sitting down.
●— And the others? —
— Durman — Servants eat in the kitchen, after the family has eaten… or before, depending on the situation. I don't care, as long as they do their job well. —
I didn't say anything else and sat down. Dinner began peacefully, until I recorded something.
●— By the way, Durman, what happened to those glasses you wore in the workshop? —
Silence fell immediately. Durman clamped his jaw, and Astrid, without missing a beat, kicked him under the table. The man winced in pain, but quickly responded.
— Durman — I dropped them the other day… and I forgot about them. — She pretended to be casual, but her tone was forced.
— Durman — Dalia, when you have time, take a look at them and fix them.
Dalia approached without much emotion. My attention shifted to her.
●— Miss Dalia, do you know how to work with runes? —
— Dalia — Yes. —
I leaned forward a little, interested.
●— And how about carvings in materials like glass? —
Dalia raised an eyebrow, surprised by my interest. I guess it's not normal for them to ask about the technical side of her job.
— Dalia — It depends on the material and the purpose of the artifact. Some runes are engraved with heat, others with extreme precision. If you make a mistake on a line, the result can be catastrophic.
We spent a good time talking about how runes work and some magical or runic artifacts as she calls them, secret techniques of how they carve runes, we talked about specific and very rare runes...
— Astrid — They make a good couple, don't you think, Durman? —
Durman choked on his food and looked at me sideways with a look of pure panic. I remained silent, enjoying my meal as if I hadn't heard anything.
— Dalia — Aunt Astrid, don't you talk nonsense too! —
— Astrid — It's no nonsense. You both have an interest in runes and metal. Dalia has never shown interest in anyone, but with him you seem to have something to talk about. —
— Dalia — Enough! — She slammed her fork down on the table.
— Dalia — Yes, I know I'm old enough to get married, but I'm not going to marry the first blacksmith I see on the street. — She turned her head toward me with an expression somewhere between annoyance and resignation.
— Dalia — No offense. —
I calmly raised my hand, declaring that I was indifferent to his comment. I had no interest in butting in where my business doesn't concern me. The only thing that really mattered to me at that moment was the food. (This is a thousand times better than the inn.) I can't help but ask the question.
●— Could you teach me this recipe? It's very good, if I could, it would justify repeating it. —
Durman burst out laughing.
— Durman — Whatever you want, lad! —
I paused for a second, my gaze fixed on the kitchen door.
(And the servants? Will they be able to eat this food too? The idea made me uncomfortable, it would be very ugly if I repeat it several times and the servants won't be able to enjoy this good food)
I leaned back in my chair and shook my head.
●— Sorry, this is so good that I can only think about repeating it, but I'm full. —
Astrid looked at me curiously, but didn't say anything. Dalia finished her dinner hastily and stood up.
— Dalia — I'm going to the workshop. —
— Astrid — Is it almost midnight? —
— Dalia — I want to fix those glasses as soon as possible. —She said as she walked out the door.
Durman snorted, but said nothing.
— Astrid — So you're staying here tonight, right? —
●— As long as it's not a nuisance. —
— Durman — You'll never be a nuisance, after all, she was my future apprentice—
●— Thank you very much. Since the accident, we haven't met many people, and meeting such kind people like you is very comforting. —
— Durman — Make yourself at home. —
— Astrid — Almost all of my husband's apprentices stayed over after working all day. —
— Durman — Changing the subject, you know a lot about steels. Where did you learn it? Perhaps it was in your village—
●— I'm sorry, Mr. Durman, for me this is a very recent issue and I don't want to talk about it — (I was narrowly spared, I feel bad lying to such kind people, but it's the only way to divert the subject from my origin)
— Astrid — Time heals everything, little by little, we're not going to force you to talk about the subject —
— Durman — Sorry, that was an inappropriate question.—
●— It's okay, I've noticed that it wasn't with bad intentions, and if you learn about what happens in my village.—
— Astrid — You seem very excited, talk to Dalia about the runes. Do you want Dalia to teach you? —
●— You actually wanted to ask them if I can see how the runes work? —
Durman raised an eyebrow.
— Durman — If Dalia doesn't have a problem, I don't care. —
I calmly got up from the table and followed her.
(Now you can see in detail how others carve runes in crystal...)
It didn't take long to get to the workshop, but Dalia, like her uncle, had everything ready on her workbench, the tools precisely aligned, the glass lenses ready to be engraved. I watched her closely as she took one of the lenses and placed it on a metal stand.
●— How are you going to carve the runes? —
Dalia stopped in her tracks and gave me a sharp look.
— Dalia — If you're going to bother me with stupid questions, you better leave. —
I crossed my arms and frowned, but didn't press the issue. If I'd learned anything in this world, it's that people take their craft very seriously. So I just watched Dalia work. Dalia began etching the first line of runes onto the magic lens, concentrating on each stroke. But something didn't add up. (Is this misspelled... or do I just think it is?) The lines weren't precise, and some lines were poorly connected. I couldn't tell without comparing them to a reference.
●—I want to try it too—
Dalia became suspicious with annoyance and slid another lens across the table.
—Dalia— Okay, done. Let's see if you can do better. —
Dalia frowned, clearly annoyed by my tone. But instead of arguing, she picked up another lens and slid it across the table.
●— Can you draw me the runes I have to use? —
Dalia snorted and pulled out a scroll, making a quick sketch of the rune sequence.
(Perfect. Now I can compare them.) I activated the mental interface and opened the document where the runes Hunt and I had collected were stored. I took a photo of Dalia's runes and overlaid the images, and my suspicion was confirmed.
●— Do you have a reference book? —
Dalia raised an eyebrow.
—Dalia— What for? —
●— I want to check something. —
She eyed me suspiciously, but eventually headed over to a shelf in the corner of the workshop. After a few seconds of rummaging, she pulled out a thick tome and handed it to me.
—Dalia— Here you are. But don't you dare damage it, this book is worth more than your life. —
I didn't respond. I opened it and began scanning the pages (It's going to take me a while to copy all this...) page by page. I had a real runebook in front of me, not some badly written sheets. I quickly realized that many of the runes we knew were misspelled or poorly formed. I corrected the mistakes and analyzed some of the examples in the book. The runic syntax was simple, but complex; there are many references and runes that can be combined to create new runes or commands. I activated my quick thinking to quickly analyze all the syntax and understand the runes again.
(Quick Thinking is using the supercomputer's power to perform calculations or mental analysis. This requires a great deal of mental effort and a huge expenditure of manan. At the moment, I can only use this quick thinking once a day .) After finishing reviewing the inscriptions, I confirmed that many of the runes we knew were misspelled or deformed. Dalia had terrible runic handwriting. (This is a disaster... but it can be fixed.)
After finishing making a copy of the book, look up.
●— I think you're writing the sequence backwards. —
—Dalia— WHAT? — blinking several times, offended.
●— In this type of rune, you list the function first, then the purpose. But you're doing it backwards. You're writing "person" before "detect," when it should be "detect person." —
Dalia opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. She turned and checked her own work.
— Dalia — …It can't be. I've always written them like that. —
●— You've been reversing the runes from the beginning. —
She frowned, picked up the book, and began to quickly scan it. Clearly, she was looking for more mistakes.
— Dalia — I guess you're right. —
We spent a few minutes refining the runes we needed. Then, each of us took our tools and began working on our own magical lens. As we carved, the conversation became lighter.
Dalia told me she'd like to see a lake... or the ocean. She also mentioned her interest in dungeon exploration, although the mere thought of facing a monster terrified her. She also mentioned her passion for carving runes and learning about forging and metals. She loves reading, although books are expensive. She enjoys cooking with her Aunt Astrid and helping Joan or Peter with their homework. She didn't have many friends. Just a few female friends. She hates fish, but she loves fruit and nut cakes.
(And she's right to be afraid. Any creature outside the wall is a real danger. In this world, monsters do exist; it must be terrifying for her or anyone else who thinks about the outside of the wall.)
I limited myself to sharing a few things about myself. I told him I grew up on a farm with my family, and that I met Hunt when we fought over who was the best "hunter." (I couldn't tell him we'd actually compete for top grades in college .) I also mentioned how we used to make rudimentary traps and spears out of wood for our "expeditions." (In a way, it wasn't entirely a lie…)
Then she spoke of her childhood. Her voice became more measured, as if she were carefully choosing what to say. She told me how she was orphaned while traveling with her family (her mother, Astrid's sister, her father, and her cousins, Durman and Astrid's children) on their way to the capital to visit a duke, when they were attacked by giant wolves. She was the only survivor. Durman and Astrid adopted her and raised her as their own daughter.
He told it calmly, without drama. But his gaze was lost in the lens he was working on; I noticed he was avoiding some details. (I didn't ask anything; I didn't want to rub salt in that wound.) But suddenly, he stopped and snapped his fingers.
— Dalia — Wait a minute! If I've been carving the runes wrong until now... Then this might work! —
He dropped everything he was doing and ran out of the workshop. He soon returned, carrying a steel plate covered in marks.
—Dalia—Look at this. I wanted to make a portable magic stove, but I could never get it to work right. I always had problems with heat distribution… but if I was writing it wrong, then it all makes sense! —
I looked at his design. (The idea is good... but the method is a mess.)
●—Yes, of course. You're right. But you're doing everything wrong. —
Dalia turned around with a sour face.
— Dalia — And what do you know? You just learned about runes! —
●— What do you want to bet I can make a better design? —
Dalia narrowed her eyes defiantly.
—Dalia—Hmph. If you succeed, I agree to marry you. —
●— …I never said I wanted to marry you. —
— Dalia — What's wrong? Don't you think I'm pretty? Or am I not good enough for you? —
My brain short-circuited. I froze for a second. My breath caught in my throat.
%% (Neo got nervous and answered speaking in x2 or x3) %%
●— No, no, no! Of course you're pretty. Very pretty. Gorgeous. I mean, yeah, obviously, evidently, anyone would say so… plus you're smart, and you have a tone of voice that... that sounds good. And... and you carve runes, and... and you have a great smile. And pretty eyes. And... and a nice b—b… nice hairstyle! Or... or something like that. And... and... hands. Really good hands! I mean... firm, skillful... uh... fuck!
Dalia raised her eyebrow at me and started laughing. Then, she leaned closer and narrowed her eyes. She remained silent for a second, regarding me with a neutral expression…
— Dalia — HAHAHAHAHA!
She held her stomach as she laughed heartily, leaning forward. When she finally caught her breath, she wiped a tear from her eye and looked at me with a shy smile.
— Dalia — You're lucky I liked you from the start... because, honestly, I don't usually notice idiots. — Her lips curved into a playful smile as she looked me up and down, as if she were sizing me up.
— Dalia — But I guess even fools like you can be charming… although maybe it's just because I enjoy seeing you flustered. —
●— But back to the important thing… if you win, what do you want? —
Dalia, still smiling, crossed her arms and looked at me mischievously.
— Dalia — Mmmm, If I win, you will be my servant for life. —
I pulled myself together, pretending all of that had never happened. I smiled sideways, trying to ignore the heat on my face.
●— Deal. — (I got carried away and accepted a stupid bet…)
The sound of tools and the soft sputtering of the forge. Every now and then, I looked up to see how Dalia was progressing, but every time I did, she seemed to be watching me too. The moment our eyes met, she quickly looked away, pretending to be absorbed in her work. I couldn't help but smile slightly. Did she notice this strange tension too?
As we carved the runes, we both reached for the same tool at the same time. My hand brushed against his for just a moment before I quickly pulled away, feeling the heat rush to my face.
●—Y-You first—I stammered, quickly backing away.
Dalia just raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. She took the tool with a barely visible smile on her lips before returning to her work.
We remained silent, but the tension in the air felt different. At one point, we moved at the same time to adjust our pieces, and our backs briefly touched. A shiver ran through me, and I immediately pulled away, feeling my heart beat a little faster than normal. Dalia didn't even flinch. Or so it seemed. (This girl is just too focused on her work.)
After several hours, fatigue began to take its toll. Finishing the final adjustments to her design, Dalia let out a long sigh and, without warning, slumped slightly backward, resting her weight against my back. I remained completely still, not daring to move.
— Dalia — Just a second… — she murmured, her eyes closed.
— Dalia — I'm exhausted. —
I swallowed, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. My mind screamed at me to move, but my body refused to obey. I forced myself to breathe deeply and not think about it too much. After all, it was only because I was tired… (right?) I got up carefully, afraid of waking her, and plopped down onto some sandbags in a corner of the workshop. After a few seconds, Dalia did the same, settling in next to me without much thought.
"Dalia, why does your uncle have so many sandbags?" I murmured, my voice heavy with sleep.
— Dalia — I think he said he wanted to try making glass things… — she replied, already half asleep.
●— … —
The conversation died away in whispers until sleep overtook us without us realizing it.